


I Will Follow You

by Icedaddys_icebaby



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Major death over and over, Reincarnation, it's reincarnation bruh, my boys - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 07:05:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10406601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Icedaddys_icebaby/pseuds/Icedaddys_icebaby
Summary: "Yuri Plisetsky has the unforgettable eyes of a soldier." Out of the many lives I lived, this is by far my favorite. It even tops the days spent in Athens watching the stars in each other's arms. Topped the Italian springs listening to you recite poetry on the villa. Nor could the friendship in Germany compare to what I have now."Are you going to become friends with me or not?"





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fangirlxtrash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirlxtrash/gifts).



> I know, I've been a busy bumble bee. Have some angst

_“I will follow you, follow you wherever you may go…”_

 

Reincarnation was such a tricky thing. You aren't fully aware of your past lives, nor can you access them at will. Most go living without a thought of their previous selves too focused on living the current timeline. So how can one be so sure they have walked this earth once upon a year? People. More specifically souls. A soul knows when you've met this person before, even if this is the first time your eyes graced them. It's a strange yet sobering experience that not many will feel or even recognize. Not because of denial, more so having to deal with not being as in tuned to auras as a few might be. How do you know? How do you _truly know_ you were reincarnated?

 

I still hadn't a clue when I was living a regular life as a smith. Back then, My name wasn't even Otabek. I couldn’t remember that time very clearly, but I can tell you I was content in medieval Europe. Granted I did nothing but make swords for the empire, gearing for a war I personally wanted no part of. One thing was for certain, I had been a pacifist in each life. I met him while running errands for father. I kept thinking, ‘this boy was strange’ but I have never seen someone so young handle a sword with such ease. It was downright mesmerizing watching the blond gracefully execute drills with his sparring partner. A dance so dangerous one false step meant death.

I never spoke to him, though. I didn't feel adequate enough. A simple smith couldn't possibly impress a knight, no matter how young he looked. To better my chances though, I took up weapons play, training for a year before deeming myself worthy of challenging the blond. But when I searched around, no one knew who I was talking about. The few that did offered little to no information about his whereabouts. Another month would pass before I caught word of where this mystery soldier might be. I hadn't even crossed words with this boy, didn't know his name, didn't know anything other than he was skilled in swordsmanship. So why did my chest convulse as I knelt beside the wooden cross? It wasn't my job to grieve over the fallen militiamen. Yet, I had an inkling this boy did not have a family who would do so. Everyday before work, I’d travel to the cemetery to place a white rose. I did this for a month before being drafted for the war. I didn't remember dying that day. It didn't feel like it.

Sure an axe to the throat was beyond painful, but I had opened his eyes once more as if waking from a deep slumber. Was this the heaven they preached on about? Could be.

Somewhere between my second third birthday did I forget about any traces of a previous life. In this time, however, I was most definitely female. Not that it mattered to the dark haired sweetheart girl my soul occupied. Our only concerns being which hair bow would match this outfit but not clash with our eyes. Also, coloring inside the lines was a very big part of her day. She needn’t worry about much in Eastern Berlin till she was the tender age of twelve. That’s when the war broke out. Something about this screamed deja vu, but again, I was twelve. So off I brushed it.

That is until my soul lurched in familiarity. I was holding tightly to my father’s hand walking the markets when I accidentally bumped into a girl around my age. I couldn’t describe the feeling correctly when the girl challenged me for knocking her on the ground with a raised brow and hands on her tiny hips.

“Well. Are you going to apologize?” She said, long blonde hair bouncing as she tapped her foot.

“Don’t be rude, Sonnenschein.” My father urged. “Apologize to her.” Embarrassed I muttered out a ‘sorry’. That must have been enough because she smiled and said, “That’s alright! You’ll just have to be my friend to make it up to me!” And we were best of friends for a few weeks. She had a shit ton of dolls in one room and it creeped me out to the fullest, but watching her talk so excitedly about each one eased my nerves. She also had a cat. I’ve seen some strays but this cat was pampered to the fullest. Ate off fine china, drank from crystal, got her fur brushed every other day, could sit wherever it pleased, and nap all day. She told me the cat did not care much for anyone other than herself and was genuinely shocked at how easily I could pat it’s head. But it made her happy nonetheless.

The war was growing, however, forcing my family to make plans flee to France. The last time I saw her, she gave me a locket with her photograph in it and mine right next to it. “That way,” she slid it around my neck, “you won’t forget me. No matter where you are, no matter how far, I’ll always be at your side.”

My family and I never did make it to France.

_“There isn’t an ocean too deep, a mountain so high it can keep… keep me away from you.”_

For this entire story to make sense I have to take you back to my very first life. The life where my soul first met _yours_.

**Author's Note:**

> Sonnenschein- Sunshine in German


End file.
